“Magister!” Nicodemus snapped. His voice was firm though his hands had gone cold with fear. “Be quiet and hold still!”
The wizard sat on his haunches. “Very well, but hurry. We don’t have long.”
Nicodemus had to touch the old man to disspell the curses. But as he reached for his teacher’s cheek, his hand froze. It was shaking.
“I’m not the Storm Petrel anymore,” he whispered to himself. “I won’t curse him. I’m the Halcyon now.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had the emerald. His doubt and fear should have vanished with his disability.
“I am the Halcyon now,” he assured himself and pressed his palm against his teacher’s cheek. The old wizard drew in a sharp breath.
Suddenly Nicodemus was looking through Shannon’s skin and sinew to the old man’s stomach. It was not pink flesh he saw, but the cyan glow of the organ’s Language Prime text. Five knobs stood out on the otherwise regular folds. They glowed brighter than the rest of the stomach.
Nicodemus set about disspelling the cankers. It was difficult work; Fellwroth had cruelly restructured Shannon’s Language Prime prose. Worse, the old man flinched every time Nicodemus made a major textual change.
“Is it done?” Shannon asked when Nicodemus removed his hand. The pain had made his face shine with sweat.
“I disspelled the worse curses around your stomach, but I saw smaller cankers on other organs. They’re not growing quickly. And I want to study them more before—”
“Disspell them later,” Shannon said while restoring Azure to her perch on his shoulder. “We haven’t long before Starhaven realizes we’re here and comes for us.”
Nicodemus helped his teacher stand. “Why do we need to worry about the other wizards?”
Shannon took a step on unsteady legs. “When the provost learns the truth about you, Nicodemus, we’ll land in the largest embroilment in the history of academic politics. If we want to avoid becoming the provost’s political prisoners, we must learn everything we can from that monster.”
Nicodemus turned to look at Fellwroth, still spellbound and lying on the floor.
Deirdre had picked herself up and gone to Boann’s ark. Fellwroth had written a Numinous shield around the object, but the avatar had forced her arms through the prose to lay her hands against the stone.
The contact seemed to be strengthening the ark; a red aura was growing around the stone and gradually deconstructing Fellwroth’s Numinous shield.
“Monster, I’ll have the truth from you.” Shannon limped over to stand above Fellwroth. “What do you know about the Disjunction?”
The creature glared with bloody eyes. When Shannon disspelled the gag, the thing laughed. “With what do you threaten me, Magister? Torture? Death? Neither will work. You, old goat, will never have my obedience.” The bloody eyes swiveled to Nicodemus. “But the boy might.”
Nicodemus frowned. “What are you playing at?”
Fellwroth grinned. “You may not need me to disspell the old man’s curses. But I command the forces of the Disjunction. Let me live and I will put all the resources of the demon-worshipers at your command. You can rule as a new emperor.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Nicodemus snapped. “I’d rather rot in hell than be your ally.”
The monster continued to stare at Nicodemus. “Think on it. You can’t go to the wizards; they will never overcome their belief that you’re the Storm Petrel. They will imprison and manipulate you. And you can’t trust that girl dressed up like a druid; she betrayed me and will betray you.”
Nicodemus’s heart grew cold. “Deirdre betrayed you?” he asked, remembering his first encounter with Fellwroth in the Drum Tower. The monster had acted surprised when Deirdre had resisted.
Fellwroth ignored this. “We do not have to serve the demons, Nicodemus. You can use me to resist the Disjunction. Think of the opportunities. I can show you how to find the demon-worshiping cults. I can help you eliminate them or manipulate them. Nicodemus, if you want to protect humanity, you cannot afford to destroy me.”
Nicodemus looked at Shannon.
The old linguist began to scratch Azure’s neck. He took a long moment before nodding.
“Very well,” Nicodemus said, turning back to the monster. “Tell me everything you know about the Disjunction.”
“TALK FAST,” SHANNON said. “The sentinels will be here soon. How did Typhon cross the ocean?”
Fellwroth’s red eyes darted between teacher and student. “I am neither human nor a construct, something in between. By combining dust with demonic godspells, Los sought to create a new race to replace humanity. I was to be the first of the new men. He gave me life, but he never completed me. The Pandemonium was away at war on the coast, trying to stop the humans from escaping across the ocean. They had left Mount Calax emptybut for Los and my unfinished self. A party of powerful human avatars surprised the arch-demon. Sacrificing their lives, they combined their godspells to drain Los of all strength until he became solid rock. I was left incomplete and forgotten in Los’s mountain palace.”
Fellwroth shifted uncomfortably beneath the restraining Magnus sentences. “Having no devotees, the demons could not pursue humanity across the ocean. And only Los knew how to break their bonds to the earth of the ancient continent. But I am part of the ancient land—a being made from godspells and dirt. So when—centuries after Los’s demise—Typhoneus accidentally discovered me, he knew I could be his vessel to the new world. The demon implanted himself inside of me, made me his ark. We built a crude ship and sailed to this land.”
“And why did you cross?” Shannon asked. “Were you going to ferry the demons across one by one?”
Fellwroth shook his head. “Only an Imperial’s fluency in Language Prime can reanimate Los’s frozen body, so we crossed the ocean to breed one. Typhon had reconstructed the genealogy charts of the Imperial blood-lines. That’s how he created you, Nicodemus. And once we had your Language Prime fluency, we set about creating a dragon that could carry us back to the ancient continent.”
Nicodemus frowned. “Why not simply sail back?”
“Can’t be done,” Fellwroth replied. “Being trapped on the ancient continent has driven the demons mad with bloodlust. Mindless, they stalk the southern shores and will destroy any approaching ship. Typhon and I escaped by sail only because the demons did not imagine it was possible. Now their fury is whetted; even Typhon would not have survived a landing by ship.”
“So you need a dragon to fly over them?” Nicodemus asked.
The monster shook his head. “The flying helps, but it wouldn’t be sufficient. The dragon I completed could fly, but the demons would have torn it into pieces. A true dragon is more than wings and scales. True dragons can change the nature of a mind; they make their victims think unthinkable thoughts.”
Shannon exhaled. “A true dragon is a type of quaternary cognition spell?”
Fellwroth answered without taking his eyes from Nicodemus. “Precisely. Only a true dragon can travel past the demons to Mount Calax. There we could reanimate Los with your ability to spell in Language Prime. Los could then tame the feral demons and break their ties to the ancient continent. Then the War of Disjunction would begin at last.”
“So then why send your dragon to burn in Trillinon?” Shannon askedbefore laughing dryly. “No, let me guess. You killed Typhon before the dragon was finished. When you tried to complete the wyrm on your own, you failed to make it powerful enough to get past the demons. So you sent the dragon against Trillinon to cause havoc.”
Fellwroth bared his teeth at the grand wizard.
Shannon responded with a humorless smile. “So I am right. But tell me why you killed Typhon. Why sabotage your own plan?”
The monster hissed. “Typhon was a fool. The old goat was so bent upon reconstructing Los that he failed to see that I am Los’s legacy. He jeopardized my life for trifling matters. So when the emerald showed me how to kill him in the river, I did so and stole p
art of the demonic godspell. That’s how I learned to manipulate dreams.”
“There are no more demons on this continent, then?” Nicodemus raised his eyebrows. “So to stop the Disjunction, all we need do is kill you?”
“Not quite, boy.” Fellwroth produced a toothy smile. “Typhon and I established hidden cults in every human kingdom, each of which will continue trying to breed a true Imperial. If you want to prevent the War of Disjunction, you will need me. I can help you destroy the cults or rule them. You can choose to do either, but to have any hope of discovering them you must protect me from the wizards and from that vile woman.” Fellwroth nodded to something behind Nicodemus. “I won’t have a betrayer near me.”
Deirdre approached. Her green eyes shone with a wild energy. She had recovered her goddess, her pure love. “How could I have betrayed you, monster?” she asked. “When from the beginning I sought nothing but your death?”
Something occurred to Nicodemus. “Fellwroth, how did you find Boann’s ark? Why bring it here?”
The creature laughed and looked at Deirdre. “You mean she doesn’t know? Her hussy of a goddess never told her?”
Deirdre stepped beside Nicodemus. “Hold your tongue.” She leveled her greatsword at the monster’s head. “Or I’ll cut it out.”
“Nicodemus, Boann is traitorous,” Fellwroth replied hotly. “She wants to control you.”
Shannon stepped forward and pulled Deirdre’s sword arm down. “We need to handle this carefully,” he muttered.
Fellwroth continued to glare at the woman. “Boann and I made an arrangement. The goddess agreed to serve the Disjunction if she could become a powerful demon.”
“You lie!” Deirdre growled.
Shannon laid a hand on her shoulder. “Easy,” he murmured.
Fellwroth laughed. “Stupid girl. You were the one who negotiated the agreement. You offered to capture Nicodemus for me because I did not then know his identity.”
Deirdre looked at her two companions. “Don’t listen. He’s trying to trick you into distrusting Boann.”
Nicodemus met her gaze. “Deirdre, how did he know where Boann’s ark was?”
Fellwroth was the one who answered. “The girl begged for her life when I cornered her in that Chthonic tower. She told me where I could find the ark and how to surprise the druids protecting it. How else could I have gotten it here so quickly?”
Deirdre shook her head. “It’s a lie.”
Nicodemus’s fingers tightened around the emerald. Something was wrong. “But why did you bring it here, Fellwroth? The spell that knocked the emerald from your hand came from the ark.”
The creature sneered in disgust. “Boann suggested that I bring the ark here to reassure me of her allegiance. If I had her ark, she could not break her word and run away with you, Nicodemus.”
The monster sniffed in disdain. “Even though I was foolish enough to agree, I took a precaution: I sealed the ark with protective text. It was a strong shield, but one short spell could slip through if the ark knew exactly how my prose was written. Somehow the emerald plucked that knowledge from my mind and fed it into the deity inside the stone. Somehow the emerald told the ark exactly when to strike so that I would drop the stone.”
Nicodemus’s brow furrowed. “But Boann shouldn’t know about the emerald. Only you, Fellwroth, knew about the emerald. Well, you and…” He stopped himself from saying “Typhon.”
Cold terror spread through Nicodemus.
“You see, neither the girl nor the goddess can be trusted.” Fellwroth insisted.
“You can’t believe him, Nicodemus,” Deirdre insisted, her chest heaving. “It’s been a year since I sinned against Boann, and we are so close to redeeming—”
“Deirdre, something’s wrong,” Nicodemus interrupted. “Listen, a year ago Fellwroth killed Typhon. You started having seizures just after that.”
Deirdre shook her head again. “We knew that, Nicodemus. We knew that Boann saw Fellwroth killing the demon. That’s how she learned of you. That’s why she sent me to rescue you.”
“No, Deirdre,” Nicodemus said, taking a cautious step closer. “We don’t know that for fact; that’s what we suspected. But what if it isn’t true? Whatif Typhon succeeded in infecting Boann when he was in her waters? You told us that Boann kept her ark in the Highland rivers.”
Fellwroth’s crimson eyes bulged. “Boann inhabited that river? Deirdre said the goddess was of the city. Nicodemus, quickly, we must get away from the ark. She’s not Boann’s avatar anymore!”
Deirdre’s sword arm was trembling.
Nicodemus began composing restraining Magnus sentences.
Fellwroth kept talking. “Nicodemus, Shannon, we need to get away. There are fates worse than death! She’s not Boann’s avatar! We have to escape Typhon!”
“Deirdre…” Shannon started to say.
But Deirdre, moving with inhuman speed, slammed her elbow into Shannon’s face and then thrust her blade into Fellwroth’s skull.
The Numinous rectangle on the creature’s forehead exploded and sent a wall of force careening through the cavern. When the shockwave hit Nicodemus, everything went black.
Then he was lying on his back staring at a torrent of blazing Numinous prose streaming from Fellwroth’s corpse to the ark.
Nicodemus extemporized a disspell along his forearm and cast it at the textual stream.
But his text crumpled in the air and fell.
Numbing shock filled Nicodemus as he watched the disspell shatter on the floor. How could he have misspelled?
He looked down at his hands and found them empty.
The emerald was gone.
CHAPTER
Forty-four
A rumble shook the stairs under Amadi’s feet.
Slowly the sentinels pushed open the giant iron doors that led onto the Spindle Bridge’s landing. Before her stretched the moonlit bridge and the dark mountains beyond. “Secure the landing,” she ordered.
The twelve sentinels who had volunteered for the expedition began to spread out. They were all excellent spellwrights: ten wizards and two grand wizards. Three bore caesura wands, another a tundern wand. The rest carried spellbooks full of wartexts.
The dean of libraries and the rector had accompanied the party to observe.
Simple John stepped beside her and pointed. “There!”
Amadi’s gaze followed his finger to where the Spindle Bridge met the mountainside. A hole seemed to have been blasted in the Spindle. Out of it shone a golden blaze.
The sentinels muttered. Someone was casting a powerful Numinous spell from inside the mountain.
“Kale,” Amadi ordered, “stay here with John and the provost’s officers. The rest of you, advance slowly and keep closed ranks. Subdue anything dangerous, and kill anything nonhuman.”
DEIRDRE STOOD FROZEN in her thrust—legs bent, arms extended, hands locked around the sword hilt. Fellwroth’s unmoving body lay before her.
When Nicodemus said Deirdre’s name, her eyes moved but her body remained as stiff as stone.
Shannon lay behind her, bleeding from his nose and a wound on his shoulder. Azure had disappeared.
Nicodemus went to the wizard and turned him over. He took care to touch only the old man’s robes, never his skin. Without the emerald, he was once again the mutagenic Storm Petrel.
Shannon looked up at him with a dazed expression. “Fellwroth…is dead?”
“He is,” Nicodemus croaked, crouching beside the old wizard.
“And Deirdre is…Typhon’s avatar?”
“She didn’t know.” Nicodemus shoved his arm under the wizard’s back.
“But how did you figure it out?” Shannon gasped as Nicodemus tried to lift him.
“Magister, now is not—”
“No…” the old man said between rapid breaths. “You have to tell me.”
Nicodemus grimaced. “Fellwroth cut Typhon in Boann’s river. After that Deirdre started having seizures and seeing visions o
f Fellwroth attacking Typhon. Something of the demon must have infected Boann’s ark and later her avatar. Deirdre didn’t recognize the change because she thought it was Boann’s punishment for having an affair with Kyran.”
Only four flamefly paragraphs remained; they hovered above Shannon, shedding a small pool of wan incandescence.
Shannon shook his head. “But how do you know that?”
“Fellwroth’s words,” Nicodemus answered. “The creature was terrified that Typhon was after us.”
Shannon inhaled sharply as Nicodemus sat him up.
The younger man continued to explain as he draped the old man’s arm over his shoulder. “Typhon knew Fellwroth would have to find me when the emerald needed replenishing. So he pretended to be Boann and sent Deirdre here. She was to bring me to the ark; that way Typhon could invest his soul into me and use me to defeat Fellwroth. But when Fellwroth caught Deirdre alone, the demon changed his plan. He tricked Fellwroth into bringing the ark up here, next to his real body, knowing that Fellwroth would bring me here.”
The old wizard groaned as Nicodemus hoisted him to his feet. “But why,” Shannon asked as Nicodemus wrapped his arm around the old man’s waist, “did the demon want you in the same place as Fellwroth and the ark?”
Nicodemus was now half-walking, half-hauling the wizard toward the Spindle Tunnel. “The demon knew that if Fellwroth died near the ark, he could steal the creature’s power. So Typhon waited for me to arrive, and then cast a spell to tear the emerald from Fellwroth’s hand and give it to me. He knew I could defeat Fellwroth when the emerald completed my mind. But now he’s taken the emerald back. I can’t find it.”
Nicodemus stumbled and nearly fell. Warmth spread across his cheeks. “All the things that’ve happened in the past few days, they’ve all been part of Typhon’s plot to kill Fellwroth and recover the emerald.”
A slow clapping sound echoed through the cavern. Nicodemus stopped.
In the darkness before the Spindle’s entrance stood a man—seven feet tall with a silken mane of red hair and a beard to match.
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